Deer is deer . . what does it matter how the deer is killed?
This is a non-story.
Back in the 80s I lived above a Japanese restaurant.
I used to sit on the deck above the parking lot behind the apartment building and watch the rats running in and out of the eatery.
[no, I didn’t count how many came *out* versus how many went *in*]....;]
Several years later, they moved out onto the Dual Highway.
It’s currently a “fashionable” place to eat.
I could just gag.